plethora – Life In A Word

I walk the dog late at night, just to be sure he doesn’t nudge me awake in the wee hours of the morning. The walk can be a chore when I’m tired but most nights it’s a quiet, peaceful stroll through our pitch-black horse pastures. We’re usually blessed with clear skies here in South Carolina, which means the stars and planets put on a display worthy of a paid ticket to an observatory. Regardless, the moment I’m out the door I’m in search of my other faithful companion: the moon.

The “heavens” offer a plethora of topics to blog about (which I have: Saturn in Of Rings and Romans or Starlink satellites in Celestial Strings of Pearls, for example) but I’m overdue with a few words about the moon. Our nearest galactic neighbor is a constant wonder to me. The moon (or is it “The Moon”?) is the reason we have ocean tides here on Earth and solar eclipses far, far away. The moon has been the target of some of the most impressive space technology and exploration in history. But let’s put the science aside, shall we? Today I’d rather just muse about the moon as its sits in the night sky, like a shiny silver dollar laid out on top of a black velvet cloth.

My favorite moons are full – the perfectly round ones – but the shadowed partials can be just as beautiful. Depending on the season and the atmosphere, the moon takes on countless looks. Some nights it rises giant above the trees, as if invisible binoculars rest before my eyes. Other nights the moon sits as an elegant crescent, a perfectly white slice of melon. Still other nights the moon doesn’t rise at all, or at least, not until well after I’m in bed. It’s a guessing game every time the dog and I head out into the dark.

I also make a game of trying to guess when the moon is full just by looking at it. On the nights just before or after it occurs the moon can still appear as full. So you have to look very carefully at the edges to decide if it’s perfectly round or not. Conveniently, the moon is full about once a month, or at least, once every month in 2024. Next year or the year after, perhaps we’ll get a “blue”: that second full moon in a calendar month. Doesn’t happen very often, of course.

Here’s a fascinating fact about the moon. It’s locked into place by the earth’s gravity, meaning it’s always showing you the same face. Try to picture the earth taking a trip around the sun (once a year or so), while it’s spinning on its own axis (once a day), while the moon is spinning around the earth. Technically the moon is rotating, just not on its own axis. So you never get to see “the dark side”.

Here’s another fact that makes me pause. If you drive across the United States from coast to coast and back again, you’re driving about 6,000 miles. Do that same drive thirty times and you’ve driven to the moon. Suddenly our celestial silver dollar doesn’t seem so far away, does it?

The next full moon (from my perspective), nicknamed “The Wolf”, is a week from this posting, on Thursday, January 25th. It’ll be the first full one of the new year. Good timing really, because some of you readers don’t make it to my blog until several days after the fact. If you’re exactly a week late, walk outside tonight after dark. A spectacular scene in the heavens awaits.

Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Think about the last time you invited friends to your place, for dinner or some other get-together. Did they bring a little something – a gesture of their gratitude – or did they show up empty-handed? The gesture, whether a bottle of wine or baked goods, is especially thoughtful because it was never really expected, right? You invited your guests after all, presumably with no strings attached.

When my wife and I hosted friends from Germany a few months ago, they arrived with a plethora of German candies (an embarrassing amount, really). From their suitcases emerged boxes of chocolates and all kinds of licorice. There were German cookies and tempting little cakes. Finally, they placed a curious-looking black round metal tin on the counter. The label proclaimed, “Mann Des Jahres”, or “Man of the Year” (???) The tin looked more like an award than candy. Later, I discovered it was filled with marzipan.

Marzipan translates to “March bread” by some and “a seated king” by others, but to me it is quite literally almond joy. Sweetened with sugar or honey, marzipan derives its distinctive flavor from the paste, meal, or oil extract of almonds. Marzipan is more popular in Europe than in the United States. It is typically shaped into edible fruits, vegetables, or little animals – popular around Christmas and Easter. Marzipan is also used in thin sheets as glazing for cakes. The marzipan from my German friends was one big delightful chocolate-covered disc of almond cake. In hindsight, I wish they’d brought a dozen “Man of the Year’s” and left everything else at home.

Marzipan was not my first introduction to the joy of almonds. I fell for them back when chocolate bars like Almond Joy and Mounds were kings of the candy aisle (no Kit-Kat or Twix in my day). Almond Joy was confection perfection: chocolate and coconut topped with whole almonds. Then I discovered chocolate-covered almonds and realized I didn’t need the coconut. Then I learned to appreciate almonds all by themselves – roasted and seasoned with sea salt – and realized I didn’t need the chocolate covering. Today, I keep a bag of Marcona almonds in my car, to fend off less-healthy temptations.

No discussion of almonds would be complete without a glass of amaretto. In my junior year of college, studying abroad in Rome and not quite of drinking age, I was introduced to copious amounts of table wine, but also to Amaretto Disaronno, the elegant liquor from the northern part of Italy. The (supposed) origin of Disaronno is as colorful as the drink itself:

In 1525, a Saronno church commissioned artist Bernardino Luini, one of Leonardo da Vinci’s pupils, to paint its sanctuary with frescoes. As the church was dedicated to the Virgin Mary, Luini needed to depict the Madonna, but was in need of a model. He found his inspiration in a young widowed innkeeper, who became his model (and lover). Out of gratitude and affection, the woman wished to give him a gift. Her simple means did not permit much, so she steeped apricot kernels in brandy and presented the resulting concoction to a touched Luini. (from “A Brief History of Amaretto” – Shaw Media)

Apricots still play a role in the making of amaretto, but its distinctive flavor comes from bitter almonds (amaretto translates to “bitter”). Yet it’s still syrupy sweet – too sweet for me to drink straight. Like most I “sour” mine with a shot or two of lemon juice.

Now that I think about it, we have almonds everywhere in our house. Almond milk in the refrigerator. Almond flour in the pantry. Almond extract in the spice drawer. Almond butter for our protein shakes and slivered almonds for our salads. Amaretto in the liquor cabinet.

Still not enough. I need to go find me some more marzipan.

Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Tag: plethora

Celestial Silver Dollar

Almond Joy